


i've got a line out the door who all think they can save me

by serenitysea



Series: i didn't know that we could break a silver lining [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, all the sads, these feels are nothing we were ever trained for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3217799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysea/pseuds/serenitysea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>sleeping beauty in reverse. sort of.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>When Skye is born there is a horrible curse laid upon her.</p><p>It is her father who does it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've got a line out the door who all think they can save me

**Author's Note:**

> so, uh. this was supposed to be like 500 words. and then. the feels happened. i will just say that it does not end happy. AND YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

_but sleeping beauty just_

_kept score_  
 _and tried to sleep more_  
  
 _she said_  
 _i'm not quite_  
 _myself tonight_  
  
  
*  
  
So you think you know the story of Sleeping Beauty.  
  
Think _again_.  
  
*  
  
When Skye is born there is a horrible curse laid upon her.  
  
It is her father who does it.  
  
He isn't a bad man, no. Not by any means.  
  
He's just so terribly broken. He's a broken, destroyed wreck of a man who has just lost the only person who ever made him feel whole — Skye's mother.  
  
Her mother dies giving her life and no one is ever the same.  
  
(But isn't that always the way of things?)  
  
*  
  
"You'll never find love," he swears. "And if you do, it will kill you."  
  
Skye is a baby. She gurgles happily and reaches for her father.  
  
He picks her up and holds her close, feeling her lungs rise and fall with every breath. (It eats at him like acid corroding a precious metal.) He kisses the top of his daughter's head, and thinks of his wife.  
  
He does not apologize.  
  
(He's _broken_.)  
  
He doesn't care.  
  
*  
  
Skye is five the first time someone dies.  
  
*  
  
Her nanny — arguably the only person who really loves her — tucks her into bed and reads her a story. (This is normal.) Nanny wants to disobey the edict laid down on each person who joins the staff at the Manor; the one that says Skye is never to be touched or shown affection.  
  
Nanny thinks it's the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard.  
  
The little girl is absolutely _starved_ for attention. She blossoms under any kind of praise or acknowledgement. Heaven knows her father can't be troubled to see to her.  
  
And because Nanny fancies herself a bit of a rule breaker (always for a good cause, of course), she warmly sweeps the hair from Skye's face and puts her lips on her forehead.  
  
She doesn't even make it to the door before she collapses.  
  
Skye screams like a thing possessed and doesn't stop screaming until they've carted the body away.  
  
Her father stands in the doorway and shakes his head in in disappointment. "You should have known better."  
  
She cries herself to sleep.  
  
*  
  
No one comes near her for almost ten years.  
  
*  
  
(Can you imagine what life is like, not being hugged or spoken to beyond surface pleasantries for a _decade_?)  
  
*  
  
On the eve of her fifteenth birthday, a marriage is announced.  
  
Skye is betrothed to Miles Lyndon, of the kingdom in the far west.  
  
Travel takes weeks and letters trickle through even slower. They have not heard about her affliction as it is a forbidden discussion in their land — and no one dares to disobey the king.  
  
There is a melancholy sort of air permeating the festivities and despite the fact that the young Prince is rather good looking, Skye barely flicks so much as a glance at him.  
  
Miles behaves outrageously.  
  
He performs all sorts of stunts and outlandish behavior to draw her eye. She tires of the gasps and awe that comes from the spectators and finally, _finally_ unbends to favor him with a tiny smile. (He is not, after all, a heartless clod. There is some intelligence behind those eyes, which relieves her in some way.)  
  
Miles cheers like he has won life everlasting.  
  
  
(Fate is a cruel, cruel mistress.)  
  
  
*  
  
Artists come from far away to create a beautiful portrait of the two young rulers. They fawn over the way the princess shies from her fiancé's reach; citing a chaste spirit and pure heart. It only makes Miles want her more — and he leans in close, daring to risk a kiss.  
  
" _No_ ," her father warns — and for those who don't know better — he sounds almost teasingly affectionate. "Not until after the wedding."  
  
The prince's morally upright father smiles with pride and cannot wait to see what other blessings will shower upon them once the beautiful princess formally joins his family.  
  
Surely the heavens will smile down upon them.  
  
*  
  
(Heaven spit her out a very long time ago and told her she could never come back.)  
  
*  
  
All good things must come to an end, and this, of course, is no exception.  
  
Miles is not a patient young man.  
  
He is a prince. He is used to getting his way and being obeyed in all he demands and finds it irritating that he has not yet sampled the delightful offerings of his betrothed.  
  
Miles knows how just strict the king is but soon enough Skye will not be with her father — and he wants to know what he is getting himself into.  
  
(In any world but this, it would be a normal concern. A typical request, even.)  
  
He plans to surprise Skye with a picnic the following afternoon and steal all the kisses he desires.  
  
(And he desires many kisses indeed.)  
  
*  
  
Miles is more playful and good-natured than she has ever seen him. He plies her with wine and sweet cakes laced with sleeping berries which will lower a person's inhibitions. Perhaps that is why she allows her guard to slip, just enough for him to slide in and draw her close.  
  
He holds her tightly around the waist and does not bother asking permission. Her skittishness does not bother him in the slightest. He has dealt with many a coquettish maiden before. He knows exactly how to invoke the surrender he seeks.  
  
"Miles, _no_ ," Skye pleads, arching her neck out of reach the best she can.  
  
" _Yes_." He reaches for her chin, and holds her in place as his lips descend up on hers.  
  
  
(Noble blood can withstand quite a beating but he is not _entirely_ noble — and this is no ordinary curse.)  
  
  
The kiss lasts for three seconds before the color leeches from his face and he staggers away from her with accusations burning in his eyes.  
  
"You —" He drops to the ground.  
  
She does not cry as he stops breathing, or when the light in his eyes fades to black.  
  
Skye stares down at him dispassionately. "You should have known better."  
  
  
(In the end, it is the echo of her father's words that trigger the kind of tears that hollow a person out and strip away the last vestige of hope.)  
  
*  
  
Her father is _livid_.  
  
For her epic failure, Skye is sent away to live in the woods.  
  
She is given three guardians for safety.  
  
(Just _whose_ safety is not specified.)  
  
They are to keep strict watch upon her, to ensure she does not endanger herself or anyone else.  
  
It is a heavy load to bear but the guardians are used to it. They have kept watch over far worse.  
  
*

Years pass.

*  
  
She is taking her usual walk in the woods when she sees him.  
  
He is taller than anyone she has ever met, with a jaw carved from granite itself and eyes that sear into a person.  
  
It is her surprised gasp that gives her away.  
  
He turns swiftly, withdrawing a sword and aiming it at her throat. "Who are you?"  
  
Something about him is making her knees feel watery, like they will not hold her weight for much longer. She has never felt this way before. She does not know what it means.  
  
When she opens her mouth to speak but words do not come out, he allows the tip of the sword to touch her throat. A single breath will kill her.  
  
  
(She has never felt such _unspeakable_ relief before, the prospect of which is making her dizzy.)  
  
  
"You _dare_ to come onto my land, and yet will not reveal your name."  
  
It is starting to get dark around the edges of her vision. She's not breathing. It does not seem fair that she could die when living _finally_ carries an expiration. (She has been waiting for this for so long.)  
  
"Skye," she says, quite simply.  
  
Then she passes out.  
  
*  
  
Waking up is a strange affair.  
  
She does not know where she is and it is a dark room that greets her. It smells unlike anything she has ever known; a musk and sort of cedar spice that she is unaccustomed to.  
  
Skye does not have time to ponder what any of this means before the man from the woods is standing in front of her. She startles and backs up against the wall.  
  
"I'm sorry," he steps backward, raising his hands in surrender. "I didn't mean to scare you."  
  
She peers at his side and does not see the weapon he'd held against her. "Where is —"  
  
"Oh." He looks sheepish. "I left it at the door. I do not require protection within the confines of my own home."  
  
(Skye wonders what that must be like. Security within the safety of one's place of dwelling is not a concept she is familiar with.)  
  
There is a long, drawn out silence that fills the room. She is fascinated by the way it does not make him the slightest bit uncomfortable.  
  
"You did not tell me you name," she blurts, feeling compelled to offer something by way of conversation.  
  
A smile transforms his hard features into something approachable. "My name is Grant. I apologize for frightening you earlier."  
  
"I was not afraid."  
  
(She wasn't. It was the first time she had felt a tiny spark of hope flicker to life inside.)  
  
"You _fainted_."  
  
"I'm sorry," she automatically replies, as she does when faced with any sort of reprimand.  
  
He frowns slightly. "Unless you are a sorceress, I do not think you are able to prevent fainting."  
  
"Well," she tips her head, considering his words. "I suppose you are correct."  
  
"I often am." Then, perhaps realizing his statement could be perceived as churlish, Grant lifts his chin to the door. "Will you eat something before you go back to your home?"  
  
It is a rare occasion when Skye is given a choice in her life.  
  
"Yes," she answers, feeling somewhat magnanimous. "I will."  
  
*  
  
They dine on a simple loaf of hearty bread and fresh butter.  
  
It is one of the best meals she has ever had.  
  
During the course of their meal, conversation flows easily. They do not always share the same viewpoint, but Grant encourages her to speak her mind. It is another novel experience for Skye, as she is used to bowing to others' concerns and train of thought.  
  
"You're not afraid of me," She realizes, wonderment coloring her tone as she stands up before him.  
  
"I have faced worse," He gravely admits, and the faint twinkle in his eye allows her to know he is teasing her gently.  
  
(The dizziness comes back but it is a different kind. She still doesn't know what it means.)  
  
"I should get back."  
  
Grant nods. "I will see you to the boundary line, if that is agreeable to you."  
  
(She finds him very agreeable, and tells him just that.)  
  
His small bark of surprised laughter is well worth the roller coaster of emotions she has experienced.  
  
*  
  
(Sometimes Grant watches Skye and notices how she does not always meet his eyes and wonders what it will take to make her come alive.)  
  
*  
  
The guardians do not interfere with her daily visits to the forest end and she does not inform them when she will return, preferring instead to remain on her own timetable and concerns.  
  
(She does not know that she smiles occasionally when staring out the window, or that she absently tucks a flower into her hair before heading out.)  
  
(But the guardians are not stupid, and they know what the bloom of love looks like on a person.)  
  
They are incredibly clever with their weekly correspondence to the king and do not reveal anything of the roses in his daughter's cheeks.  
  
(It is a conscious choice on their part, and would be considered treason if ever discovered.)  
  
(They do not care.)  
  
*  
  
Picnics make her uneasy and so Grant has built a small table and chairs for them to use in the shelter of the straw-thatched barn they sometimes frequent when the skies threaten rain.  
  
She does not talk much about her life and Grant is content to let the conversation meander through the thicket of personal issues. (He does not like to dwell upon his home life but will gamely suffer the conversation if it makes the circles under her eyes disappear by way of distraction.)  
  
"My family banished me," Grant reveals, and his voice does not waver in its delivery. "I prefer the solitude, though."  
  
"You might think so," Skye ruefully murmurs, curling her hands around the mug for warmth. "But not forever."  
  
"There is no one who has persuaded me otherwise," he insists proudly. "I have bested them in this."  
  
The Skye he has become fond of — all slow to appear smiles and cautiously hopeful demeanor — recedes into the frightened young woman he met from the woods. She has carries a haunted look in her eyes that no amount of time seems capable of banishing, despite his best efforts. "I hope, for your sake, that you have."  
  
"Skye," he gentles his tone. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
(He always asks her this. He does not push for an answer, but there is something comforting in the fact that he is consistent in his approach and yet does not demand anything from her but to remain consciously aware of how she's feeling.)  
  
And maybe that is why she does it.  
  
"Actually," Skye begins slowly. "I'm cursed."  
  
"No, you're not." The grin is back on his face and he shakes his head in denial.  
  
(It _stings_ that he doesn't believe her. She had stupidly thought this was different. That _he_ was different.)  
  
She scrambles to her feet and runs away before he can make sense of just how much he'd bungled the situation.  
  
*  
  
Grant is resourceful.  
  
It is one of the reasons why he has been able to stay alive, living in the woods as he does.  He tracks Skye to the forest edge and glances with some trepidation as he crosses the boundary. There are rules about this sort of thing. He is not supposed to be there — but he will also not allow anything to stand in his way of setting things right with Skye.  
  
He keeps his hand on his sword and descends into the darkness.  
  
*  
  
The guardians make quite a commotion just as she's climbing into bed for the night. Normally she would ignore it but there is something prickling at the edges of her awareness — something that is _not right_.  
  
The door closes loudly and she all but flies down the stairs, curiosity getting the better of her. The guardians would never allow someone into their home this late at night. It is forbidden for anyone to travel after dark and there are no neighbors out here.  
  
The voices carry and she can make out the low timbre of a man and steady tones of the guardians as they attempt to reason with the intruder. She peeks around the corner and feels her heart stop.  
  
Skye stands frozen in the doorway.  
  
Grant is slumped against the banister, clutching his side where a dark stain is spreading threateningly. She makes a sound of distress.  
  
"Skye." His eyes swing to hers in relief and he breathes a sigh of relief. "You're safe. I was so worried."  
  
His voice seems to do the trick of spurring her into motion and she rushes over to him. Skye is careful to keep her hands moving swiftly over whatever parts of him that she can touch, never lingering on any one place. She _aches_ to be closer to him and the thought of living _without_ Grant in existence in her world is _ripping her apart._  
  
"What are you _doing_ here? You know better than to traverse the woods at night."  
  
"I had to apologize. I handled that poorly."  
  
None of that matters now. She doesn't care about any of it. He cared enough to take on death itself and she had been too childish to offer him an explanation before running away scared.  
  
  
(How is she to explain that no one has ever _mattered_ before — and now that he does, it had been difficult for her to separate the pain of disappointment when he become all too human?)  
  
  
She knows enough about the placement of his wound and the slightly ashen color in his face indicate that recovery is not something working in his favor.  
  
"Can you," Skye swallows the lump in her throat. "Come upstairs?"  
  
He casts a skeptical look at her guardians. "Do you really think that's wise?"  
  
Skye knows they will not fight her on this.  
  
"C'mon," she tugs on his hand. "Let's get you cleaned up."  
  
*  
  
He looks huge in her tiny bed and the picture it makes would be something to look back on and smile, were this any other occasion.  
  
  
(She thinks of people who have the luxury of falling in love and creating lives with each other. She thinks of how she had a bit of a life with Grant, for some time.)  
  
(She thinks it is probably more than she deserved.)  
  
  
He winces and shifts restlessly, trying to find a comfortable position to recline in.  
  
"I can make it," she has to look away and swallow back tears. "Not hurt as bad."  
  
"How?" Grant sounds nearly delirious from pain and she knows that they do not have much time left; at least, not while he is still halfway lucid.  
  
"I told you. I'm cursed."  
  
"Skye." He lifts a clumsy — he, who is never clumsy; he is always so respectful and precise in his movements — hand to cup her cheek. "I refuse to believe that. No one who makes me so happy — who has 'persuaded me' — could be so."  
  
"You don't know any better," she protests, tears beginning to fall slowly.  
  
"No," he says. "But I know _you_."  
  
She can see the minute the pain floods his senses because his entire body seizes with suppressed movement. She can't watch this. He deserves so much more.  
  
"Forgive me," Skye whispers, and she brushes a gentle kiss to his forehead.  
  
A few terrifying seconds pass and nothing happens.  
  
(Noble blood can withstand almost anything, after all — and he, quite possibly, is the noblest in the realm.)  
  
Miraculously he seems to breathe _easier_ , the light growing full and strong in his eyes — echoed by hope and a razor's edge of happiness that her feelings are reciprocated.  
  
"If I may be so bold," Grant says, and the hand cupping her cheek slides under her hair, to the back of her neck, to draw her close.  
  
She still has the opportunity to back away, to avoid it, should she so choose — but she does not fight him.  
  
She wants this.  
  
  
(More importantly, she wants _him_ to _live_.)  
  
(The obscene relief has returned, and she knows her decision is the right one.)  
  
  
Their lips meet and he kisses her with all the strength he has left in his body.  
  
Their lips meet and she kisses him with all of her _life_.  
  
*  
  
In the morning, it is the guardians who find them.  
  
Grant breathes slow, but steady.  
  
Skye does not.  
  
*  
  
 _you'll find love… and it will kill you._

*

**Author's Note:**

> \+ [tumblr](http;//b-isforbombshell.tumblr.com).  
> \+ WHOOOOPS  
> \+ title & opening lyrics from matt nathanson's _kiss quick_.


End file.
